


a prayer in perfect piety

by cinnahearts



Series: Jupeter Week 2019 [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Gen, Jupeter Week 2019, M/M, Reunions, all y'all need to know is BOTH peter and juno have healed they just need to talk to each other, i'll admit thats all i really have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 18:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnahearts/pseuds/cinnahearts
Summary: In a world full of possibilities, Juno and Peter somehow find their way back to each other.This isn't the happy ending either of them were expecting(written for jupeter week- day one: reunion)





	1. i - juno

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first penumbra fic, even tho i've been a fan of the podcast for a few months now! originally, this was supposed to be shorter but i'm Extra so i decided to split it into two chapters for storytelling sakes bc what's sexier than two different perspectives
> 
> anyways [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5GMGGXZOtc4XY7b5r4mglS?si=4Zr7Ek3bSc6_fsaGRmhITA) is my jupeter playlist that i have carefully curated like some type of meat or wine or something. it's collaborative (i think) so add stuff if u want!

Juno Steel isn’t really one for goodbyes.

He’s much better at slipping in and out, a two-fingered salute as he disappears into the darkness, a half-hearted clap on the shoulder, then he’s gone. There’s never any use sticking around if no one wants you to, right?

And, as it turns out, he’s a lot better at slipping out the door of a hotel room, clenching his calloused fingers into a broken fist as he walks down the hallway and tries to scrub the feeling of happiness from every nook and cranny of his slowly deflating heart. 

Leaving Peter had hurt a lot, more than he had ever anticipated, the familiar sting of whiskey now burning his throat like fire and cleaning out his lungs like bleach, but Juno got better. He swung a little harder, bounced back a little faster, cried a little more. But he grew new skin over where Nureyev rubbed him raw and open and bloody, he got over it, and he moved on. 

And then that _goddamned_ ship landed and any semblance of recovery that Juno _thought_ that he had then promptly fell out the window and shattered into a million pieces. 

Jet _did_ tell him to put his helmet on, and now Juno kinda wishes he did so Peter doesn’t catch a glimpse of how Juno’s mouth nearly fell open at the mere sight of him. It’s enough that he has sand in every crevice of his mouth, but Peter’s presence is just the cherry on top of the metaphorical sundae that is his life now. 

_“Hello, Juno. It’s been a while.”_ Pretty lips curved over sharp teeth and oh, what Juno wouldn’t give to feel them against his own at least one more time. 

Yeah, well, go fucking figure. Of course, the one time he finally gets the guts to leave Hyperion, the one person who proposed that exact idea once upon a Neptunian star would be involved. He’s pretty sure that somewhere up there, beyond the clouds and the extent of Juno’s sanity, whatever cosmic laugh track that’s been set to his life is running on overdrive right now.

Peter Nureyev, all long legs and sharp edges, was leaning against the RUBY7 with a gaze that could both freeze a village and turn anyone’s brain into a puddle of mush, in pants so tight he was probably poured into them this morning. Tucked into them was a deep plum colored, loose-fitting, lacy thing with a neckline so deep that one wrong move would probably expose the entire front of Nureyev’s chest. Not that Juno would have any qualms with _that_ , it’s just that _other_ people might, so he tucks that small detail into the back of his head and tries to think about boring things, like the pungent smell of the Oldtown sewers and long nights doing paperwork and everything that’s not Peter-related. 

"Mista Steel, your mouth's hangin' open.", Rita says at his side, her eyes slowly growing to the size of dinner plates as she takes in the hovering spaceship in front of them.

He fixes her with a sharp look, silently thankful for something to take both his mind and his eyes off of Nureyev. "No, it isn't, Rita. Now mind your business before I express ship you back to Hyperion myself." A flush finds its way onto Juno's face and he ducks away before Rita can tease him for _that_ too. A lady can only take so much teasing from his own secretary, _of all people_ , before things begin to go south.

Rita crosses her arms and puffs out a large sigh. Juno knows she's not really mad at him, but he remembers the bag of salmon-flavored Dusty Crunchies he has squirreled away in his ratty old suitcase somewhere, just in case he needs something to call a truce with.

Peter Nureyev was, in every sense, absolutely ethereal. Juno suddenly felt conscious of the sand in his hair and the unshaven scruff currently paying rent on the sides of his face. Once he gets the last remains of the Martian desert out of his lungs as the ship lands, Juno looks down at his scuffed boots and flushes with embarrassment. There’s no reason for him to feel that way, but with his ex looking like a literal god poised upon his pedestal, leather choker and all, there’s a lot of room to feel underdressed. His coat is most likely carrying half of the Oldtown sewer system alone, and he hasn't eaten a full meal since he was underground with Alessandra, Pilot, and the Piranha. 

God, what he wouldn't _give_ to be in that rickety transport cart again. At least then he knew what he was getting at face value.

“Well, don’t just stand there, detective!”, Buddy calls. “Come in, won’t you?” Despite their current surroundings and the state of her present company, Buddy is perfectly immaculate, not a loose thread or hair in sight. The hem of her silvery pantsuit flutters gently in the wind produced by the ship’s engines, red hair perfectly swept up into an updo so complicated, it’ll probably take 3 people to undo it when the time comes. With her gold jewelry and shimmering eyeshadow over one eye, she looks less like she should be standing in the dusty bay of a spaceship and more like she should be the one selling it. 

“Right, right.” Juno wipes the grit from his eyes and follows an awestruck Rita, who is following a generally unperturbed Jet, onto the ship. The paneling behind them slowly clicks into place as they climb the steps into the ship's loading bay, and the artificial lighting kicks in. It’s as fluorescent as sim-lights get these days, but somehow it feels even realer than the sunlight filtering through Hyperion’s dome. Juno takes a few deep breaths and tries to ground himself. It’s fine, it’s okay, he wanted this, whatever _this_ turns out to be, to happen and there’s nothing more unprofessional than backing out a job last minute.

Buddy gives him one of her warmest smiles and somehow it still sends chills down his spine. “Wonderful to see you again, dear.” she says, words curling around his shoulders like a warm blanket.

Vespa gives him a sharp eye and a curt “Steel.” from where she stands at Buddy’s side, which is probably the closest he’ll get to a hello until her fingers stop fiddling with the hem of her jacket and until Juno can stop waking up to the feeling of the slide of a knife between his ribs.

He’ll give it a month before they run into each other in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning. Vespa Ai seems like the type of person he’d get along with when they weren’t pointing objects capable of bodily harm at each other. 

Then, there’s Nureyev. Somehow, he looks a thousand times better than when Juno left him, bathed in the neon glow of Hyperion City, laid bare under threadbare cotton sheets. He’s fixed Juno with his fox-like grin, stepping forward like he’s gliding on water, even though the click of his heels against the metal floor should suggest otherwise. 

“Orpheus Voler. Pleased to meet you.”, he purrs, taking Juno’s rough hand and pressing his lips to the back of it. The sight of his black lipstick staining the skin there nearly sends Juno tumbling to the floor like an idiot. Somehow, he manages to keep his composure and say something without embarrassing himself. Point one for Steel. 

“Steel, uh, Juno Steel. Private eye, pain in the ass. Depends on who you ask.”, he coughs out. “Look forward to working with you.”

Orpheus smiles a bit too sharp to be Peter Nureyev, too cold to be Duke Rose, and too new to be Rex Glass, and that’s how Juno knows he’s really fucked. Something in him finally breaks, like all it took was someone he _really_ cared about to throw away everything they had and start from square one. 

“It is nice that you two have made each other’s acquaintance,”, Jet cuts in, “But it is nearly time for us to be going. Follow me to the observation deck.”

Rita, who had been watching Juno and Orpheus with the same starry look in her eyes that she gets whenever an episode of _Venusian Nights_ comes on, squeals with delight. "C'moooon, Mista Steel!" She claps her hands together and practically runs to keep up with Jet, her whole body exuding excitement. "You know I ain't never been to space before! Oooh, this is all so excitin'!" Her curly hair bounces up and down with her frantic movements and Juno can practically make out an excited flush under her tan skin. 

She looks like a little kid caught in a candy store, which is jarring considering the fact that she's older than him. But age or not, Rita deserves a break, and he watches her practically run to keep up with Jet's hulking stride, throwing question after question out like she doesn't know or care what'll stick.

Her shrill voice rounds a corner and Rita is lost to the ship's corridors in almost an instant. Juno watches her go with a fond smile. 

At least one of them was having fun with their new job. 

"Detective.", Orpheus says warmly. He offers Juno his arm with a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I take it you'll need a guide now that our crew members have left us all alone."

Juno suppresses a shiver, Orpheus' voice running over him like sticky molasses. "Nah, I'll just follow the trail of snack dust Rita leaves behind her. Shouldn't be that hard to track her down when she leaves bright orange fingerprints everywhere she goes. 

Orpheus laughs, and it sounds so much like Peter that Juno feels a pang in his heart. "Oh, Detective. Had I known there was a bit of humor in you, I would have asked that Buddy picked you up _eons_ ago."

Juno chuckles, a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, guess we’d better get going. I’ve never seen anything outside of Hyperion, and Rita’ll talk me to death if I miss any second of it.”

Orpheus smiles, and it’s a little warmer than last time. “Well then, Detective, if you would follow me..” He walks away, the click of his stilettos echoing slightly in the corridor. 

It takes Juno a minute to realize that Peter has yet to call him by his actual name. It takes two minutes for Juno to realize that all he wants is for Peter to say his name, to hear the way his mouth curves around the vowels in Juno’s name, savoring every letter like its owner was, is something to be worshipped. It takes three minutes for Juno to realize he misses it, _a lot_. 

He carries this information in the set of his jaw, in the lump forming in the back of his throat, and follows Orpheus down the hallway. 

  
  



	2. ii - peter

Peter Nureyev isn’t usually one for getting left behind. 

He’s used to slipping out an open window, melting into the shadows at the drop of a hat. He’s good at it, it comes naturally to him, and it adds to his alluring charm that comes with the inherent nature of thievery, so why change?

It’s not until he was up to an empty bed and an emptier heart that he realizes sometimes things do change, for better or worse. 

Peter Nureyev died that morning in the hotel room, and from his ashes rises Orpheus Voler, quick and calculating and just edging enough on flirtation to make it work. He cries in the shower, pats concealer over his puffing eyes, and checks out with a smile. 

Orpheus doesn’t think about one Juno Steel, barely remember his name, until Buddy Aurinko picks him up off of a Carqualian moon and offers him a job just as he’s about to finish one of his own. 

Peter Nureyev has no idea what to say. Orpheus Voler shakes her hand in agreement. 

They board the ship with Peter’s suitcases and his spoils of war in tow, a chain of lavender jewels sitting around his throat like it was made to be there. He’s pretty sure the guards will notice that the necklace is missing in a few weeks, but by then, Kieran Alec will be off the grid, nothing more than a piece of paper fluttering in the wind, a nameless face attached to the vague idea of a person. 

“Hope it’s not too much to trouble you for some cinnamon tea?”, Peter asks, folding his legs up under him in his chair. Buddy had taken him to his quarters, shown him the bathroom, laundry room, and other amenities, then invited him into the kitchen for a cup of tea. 

“Vespa practically adores the stuff.”, she says fondly. “Seeing her eyes light up every time we find a new blend, there’s nothing in the galaxy that can compare to that treasure.”

Peter smiles. People would write sonnets and whisper stories about Buddy and Vespa, singing about their cunning intellect and bravery, admiring and admonishing in the same breath, But no one was ever able to capture how much they loved each other. It’s something that plucks at Peter’s heartstrings like an angel’s harp. He plays with the cuff of his shirt, something black with roses that Juno had mentioned liking almost a lifetime ago. His eyes had raked over it with barely concealed fascination, and his face had flushed perfectly when Peter’s eyes had caught his own. 

Peter wouldn’t admit it, not now and  _ certainly  _ not out loud, but he missed the petulant detective like one might miss a limb; raw and festering and gaping but still wholly painful.

He doesn’t realize Buddy’s been talking to him this entire time until Vespa taps him with the tip of a spoon. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you need something?”, Peter asks, the cool mask of Orpheus slipping calmly over his face. 

Buddy smiles, like she knows something he hasn’t even told her yet. “Just asking if you prefer sugar or honey in your tea, is all.” 

“Honey, please. But not too much.” He hasn’t been much of one for sweets, finds they stick in the back of his throat rather uncomfortably. 

While Buddy makes the tea, he and Vespa make shop talk. They try to stay professional, but it eventually boils down to then exchanging stories about the worst jobs they’ve ever had.

“And then, I’m trying to chew through the zip ties on my hands before anyone can realize that the diamonds are in my bodice,” Peter says, leaning forward, “,which is especially hard when you’re covered in about 4 whole layers of taffeta, so you can already tell my day has not been going well.”

Vespa laughs, a thing slightly bordering on a wheeze, slapping her hands on her thighs. “You’re telling me that you sewed the Orellik Dynasty diamonds into your dress, and you didn’t think anyone would frisk you?”

Peter laughs along with her, clutching his stomach. “Of course not! I got shit intel from a shit source!” He pauses to wipe a tear from his eye. “I just hoped that at  _ least  _ one part of my heist would go right!”

“Sounds like something only you’d get yourself into, Orpheus.” Buddy saunters over with two steaming mugs in her hand. She hands Vespa one, a wide, yellow mug with a chip on its rim, and passes a nondescript white one to Peter. 

"Yes, well, not all of us have the luxury of having such a well-oiled machine to back them up." Peter muffles his laughter into the tea. It sits warm and pleasant in the pit of his stomach. "Speaking of, I'm afraid I haven't run into Jet in the few minutes I've been aboard." 

The lilt in his voice frames it as a question, which Buddy picks up in the hard set of her mouth. "Jet's doing a little topside recon on Mars. Just picking up a few spare parts for the team, he'll radio us when he's in need of retrieval.

Peter's fingers clutched the mug like a lifeline, and he barely manages to mask a full body flinch. "Mars, you say? Wish I had been earlier, maybe I would have gotten the luxury to tag along."

Vespa waves a hand as she gulps down her tea. "Nah, it's nothing special. Bud and I used to pop in between heists, rest and refuel, then we'd be on our way to something more worthwhile." Buddy nods from where she sits in between Vespa and Peter. "Really, darling, I wouldn't be caught dead on that planet in my free time. There is certainly a number of things I find more exciting than Mars."

Vespa wipes her upper lip with the back of her hand and sets her mug down. "Speaking of more exciting things, I need to go get the medbay ready for some physicals. There's no doubt that at least one of the people boarding soon is gonna have radiation poisoning of some degree." She kisses Buddy on the side of the head, puts her mug in the sink, and disappears out of the kitchen. 

Once she's left, Peter looks at Buddy quizzically. "Beg my pardon, but did Vespa just insinuate that we're going to be bringing  _ more  _ people aboard?" He sets his forgotten tea on the counter beside them.

"Why else would we send the most capable member of our team to somewhere Vespa and I wouldn't dare follow?" Buddy tucks a lock of her supernova hair behind an ear. "We all decided it was time for some new recruits, and I've done a job with Juno before. His secretary, Rita, was an added bonus since Juno wouldn't dare to go anywhere without her." 

Peter feels all the breath in his lungs suddenly leave, and he is hunched over, gasping and wheezing past the lump in his throat. His hands scrabble uselessly at his throat and for once, he finally had his breath stolen by someone he can't even see. 

Just the mere idea of seeing Juno again, it's enough to send him spiraling, self deprecation biting into him like needles. Juno had hurt him, as awful as it had seemed, and Peter was now bleeding from that gaping wound he'd left like it had never even healed.

Buddy's hands find purchase on his knees, and her light touch brands Peter like an iron. "Breathe for me, dear.", she says, voice carrying the air of someone who has had experience with these types of things. 

Peter manages to make a sound not unlike a dusty accordion, and Buddy laughs, quiet but charming nonetheless. 

"I can't see him again.", he sobs out. A vainer part of Peter chides himself for crying, knowing that his mascara will smudge and leave a pitch black trail down his cheeks, his eyes will be red and puffy, and his face must be screwed up so horribly right now, _gods,_ he must look so ugly right now. "Buddy, I don't know what I'll do, I love him so much, but he  _ hurt _ me and I-" He dissolves into thick sobs, burying his face in his hands. 

Buddy's mouth is a thin line. "You don't owe that damn idiot a thing, not if I have anything to say about it." She closes one of her hands around Peter's, and it's cold. Buddy's always been pretty cold these days. 

"I'll make you a deal.", she says, and Peter looks up. Deals with Buddy Aurinko are a rarity in themselves, especially if she's the one striking the match. 

"If you want to turn tail the minute he steps on board, I will personally unlock one of the evacuation pods for you." Her painted fingernails tap on the stone island they're both seated at. "I won't force you to stay, but I don't want to lose someone I traveled halfway across the galaxy to see again." She pats his shoulder, and moves to place his lukewarm mug of tea in the refrigerator. 

"I'll come get you when Jet pages the main comm.", she says, disappearing with a wave of her hand. 

Peter takes a deep breath. Thinks for a second, then takes another because  _ why the hell not  _ and stands up. His kegs are a little shaky, but they manage to get him back to his quarters before giving out. 

He starts to unpack, because his mind is a swirling vortex of less than savory things and some repetitive motion might help swing his brain back on track. 

There's a vanity in his room, thank the gods, and Peter takes a seat at it with his makeup pouch in hand. He reaches for a tube of lipstick, a shade a blue so dark it would be black to the untrained eye, and pops it open. It looks wonderful on him as he parts his lips and says, 

"Hello, Juno. It's been a while.", in the silkiest voice he could possibly muster. His mirror image stares back at him; smudged mascara and greying temples, and he knows that getting Juno Steel to fall for him a second time won't be too much of a hassle. 

Now, if only if he could just find the right outfit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clear things up, orpheus is an alias that peter has used before, and orpheus is really good colleagues with buddy. i like that peter treats all of his aliases as separate people but it also makes me sad :(
> 
> there's a little connection i made between this chapter and the last one with peter's lipstick, but all i have to say is that juno would've seen the right color if he still had both eyes >:(

**Author's Note:**

> i will admit that writing for peter is a HELL of a lot easier since my writing style fits him so well, but i had fun writing both his and juno's chapters! i'm so excited for the rest of this week and i hope y'all will stick around to finish it with me!
> 
> peter's alias in this fic(and any ones in the near future) is orpheus voler, is a combination of the greek myth of orpheus and eurydice + the french verb "to steal". i have a lot of feelings about greek myths and a lot of feelings about peter, so i thought it would be great to combine them!
> 
> kudos & comments are appreciated!
> 
> here's my [tumblr](https://huaslian.tumblr.com/) if you wanna pop in and say hi or whatever
> 
> thank you so much if you're reading this, i love you and i hope you liked it!


End file.
